scovered him locking at her. She arose and
came to the bedside, her finger on her lips.

"You mustn't talk," she said sweetly, a great joy in her eyes. "I'm so
glad you're better."

She left the room, and returned in a little time with a bowl of chicken
broth, which she fed him with a spoon. It tasted very good to him, and
he felt the stronger for it, but as yet his voice seemed a long
distance away. When she turned to leave the room, however, he murmured
inarticulately and attempted to stir. She came back to the bed at once.

"I'll be back in a minute," she said gently, but seeing some look of
pleading in his eyes, she put the empty bowl and spoon on the little
table and sat down on the floor near the bed. He smiled, and then,
closing his eyes, fell asleep--outside the borders of the land of
visions, and with the music of a woman's voice haunting the last
moments of his consciousness.

After the fever had once broken, his return to strength was rapid.
Although accompanied by delirium, and though running its full course of
weeks, the "mountain fever" is not as intense as typhoid. The
exhaustion of the vital forces is not as great, and recuperation is
easier. In two days Bennington was sitting up in bed, possessed of an
appetite that threatened to depopulate entirely the little log chicken
coop. He found that the tenancy of the camp had materially changed.
Mrs. Lawton and Miss Fay had moved in, bag and baggage--but without the
inquisitive Maude, Bennington was glad to observe.

Mrs. Lawton, in the presence of an emergency, turned out to be helpful
in every way. She knew all about mountain fevers for one thing, and as
the country was not yet blessed with a doctor, this was not an
unimportant item. Then, too, she was a most capable housekeeper--she
cooked, marketed, swept, dusted, and tyrannized over the mere men in a
manner to be envied even by a New England dame. Fay and the Leslies had
also taken up their quarters in the camp. Old Mizzou and the Arthurs
had gone. The old "bunk house" now accommodated a good-sized gang of
miners, who had been engaged by Fay to do the necessary assessment
work. Altogether the camp was very populous and lively.

After a little Bennington learned of everything that had happened
during the three weeks of his sickness. It all came out in a series of
charming conversations, when, in the evening twilight, they gathered in
the room where the sick man lay. Mary--as Bennington still liked to